


You Blow My Mind, Hey Missy

by thedeathlymarshmallows



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-23 17:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4884760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedeathlymarshmallows/pseuds/thedeathlymarshmallows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which everyone's favourite and completely bonkers Time Lady does her best to throw an olive branch to The Doctor and his companions. Whether or not they recognise the olive branch when they see it is quite another matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Happy Birthday All The Livelong Day

**Author's Note:**

> Otherwise known as 'What if Missy just popped up randomly for tea parties and adventures with The Doctor and his companions whenever she felt like it?'

"Well, this is very rude I must say.  _Very_ uncivilized."

 

"How did you even get into my flat?!"

 

"The _window,"_ Missy said, gesturing in its direction as if it was a very obvious point of entry, "Needn't have bothered though, had I? You haven't even _commented_ on the cake-"

 

"Excuse me-"

 

"You know, I didn't _have_ to come here. I was very busy conducting the Space Whale Choir actually, and they're very picky about their pitches so if you don't mind I'll just _jog on_ back-"

 

"No, wait, wait, wait," Clara held up her hands as though declaring a truce. Space Whale Choir's aside, this whole scenario _needed_ an explanation. Here was Missy, sat at the dining room table in Clara's flat with a birthday cake and candles and balloons and...was that...was Missy wearing a _party hat?_

 

"I just," Clara began again, "I'm not entirely sure what this is."

 

"Well what does it look like, nano-brain?" Missy said exasperatedly, "It's a party."

 

An awkward silence as the two stared at one another.

 

"A birthday party," Missy clarified, eyeing Clara as though she thought her afflicted with some great mental blockage or difficulty.

 

"Yeah, I get that," Clara snapped indignantly, not particularly enjoying the great amount of judgement in Missy's eyes, "But why?"

 

Missy's mouth was hanging slightly ajar. A few moments passed by in complete silence, save for a slight hissing from one excessively green balloon which had promptly decided to deflate. Much like Missy's enthusiasm for this whole botched plan.

 

"You know...I think, I think I'm sensing the problem here," Missy eventually replied, rising to her feet and dramatically taking off the party hat. She took a moment to pinch her nose, close her eyes and theatrically compose herself. Then she placed two hands firmly down on the dining table - one either side of the birthday cake - and stared hard into Clara's confused brown eyes. "You're sensitive about your age aren't you, poppet?"

 

"I'm not-"

 

"It's very natural, very natural of course," Missy continued brazenly, "You humans are _ever so_ puny and helpless, _flopping about_ in the great sea of time - I mean just take a look at your face, you poor dear, it's _completely ravaged-"_

 

"I don't-"

 

"Is that a wrinkle I see?" Missy commented, closing the distance between them in a few deft strides. A bit too close, actually, for Clara's liking. Their noses were touching.

 

"Oh dear," Missy said through the side of her mouth, a feigned expression of concern on her face, "Looks like old Father Time _has_ done a number on you, hasn't he - ?"

 

"Missy," Clara interrupted firmly, "What are you doing here?"

 

A mischievous smile on the Time Lady's lips. No answer.

 

"Missy," Clara prompted again, feeling like she was dealing with a particularly troublesome student.

 

"A birthday party fo' 'yay all the livelong day," Missy answered, swinging her voice into a cheery, if not slightly bizarre, accent, "Candles fo' 'yay, balloons fo' 'yay, cake on a tray today fo' 'yay-"

 

"For me?"

 

"Fo' 'yay," Missy confirmed.

 

"But Missy-"

 

"'Yay."

 

"It's not my birthday."

 

A few seconds in which time seemed to stretch into an eternity. An endless void filled with Missy's mischievous smile slowly drooping to an expression of complete apathy.

 

"It's not your birthday?" She echoed.

 

"No," Clara said, folding her arms decisively across her chest.

 

More silence. This news seemed to be causing Missy a great deal of inner strife.

 

"I take it today's not the twenty third of November?"

 

"No, you're a week early."

 

"I see," Missy replied, suddenly looking every inch the cold-blooded killer again, "Well that's typical, that's just very bloody typical isn't it?" She turned on her heels and spun back around, taking a pin out of her hair and marching over to the balloons, viciously popping them one by one. "Couldn't have been born a week earlier, Clara, could you?"

 

"It's not _my_ fault you can't set the date correctly on your vortex manipu-"

 

"I mean, does it really matter?" The Time Lady suddenly questioned, coming to a halt before popping the last balloon, "Last week, this week, next week, you know, does anyone _really care_ when you popped out your mother's hoo-hah - ?"

 

"I care," Clara said resolutely, giving Missy a heated glare.

 

Another slight pause. Missy threw up her hands in defeat.

 

"Fine, fine! Have it your way, _Clara_. Wouldn't want to offend your _fragile_ human ego now would I?" The last balloon was ceremoniously popped and Missy started fiddling with the vortex manipulator on her wrist.

 

"Were you..." Clara began, brows knit together in confusion, "...Were you _really_ trying to throw a birthday party for me though?"

 

Missy rolled her eyes and gestured elaborately at the scene before them. "Evidently, pet, _evidently."_

 

"So...do you...I mean...do you _care about me?"_

 

Missy simply gave a long, dramatic sniff in answer.

 

Clara didn't know whether to scoff at the idea or run as far away as possible as quickly as possible. In fact she didn't know how to react at all. She didn't even know if Missy was actually _capable_ of feelings of...affection? Friendship? Comradeship? She had a fondness for The Doctor certainly, but that seemed firmly rooted in trying to murder him at any given opportunity. Didn't it?

 

Maybe Missy really _was_ trying to make amends. Maybe this regeneration was...different somehow? Maybe a little bit of The Doctor's compassion had _finally_ gotten through to her-

 

"The cake was rigged to explode when you blew out the candles anyway," Missy's indifferent voice suddenly cut in.

 

Then with a flick of the wrist she was gone.


	2. EYE SPY (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Missy might be trying to extend a hand of friendship or she might be trying to vaporise the world. It's always hard to tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to say a big thank you for all the comments, views and kudos this fic has received so far - I wasn't expecting the first chapter to be so popular so I hope the second lives up to expectations! Part two of this chapter to come soon (hopefully!)

 

**02:59am // MI$$Y**

pssssst

PSSSSSTTTT

 

**02:59am // Clara**

....Who is this???

 

**03:00am // MI$$Y**

u so fine

 

**03:00am // Clara**

No

 

**03:00am // MI$$Y**

u blow my mind

 

**03:00am // Clara**

No no no

 

**03:01am // MI$$Y**

HEY MISSY

 

**03:03am // Clara**

NO

How the hell did you get my number?!

 

**03:04am // MI$$Y**

where there's a will there's a way poppet ;)

 

**03:05am // Clara**

But this is a NEW NUMBER

As in BRAND NEW

I haven't even given it to The Doctor yet

 

**03:06am // MI$$Y**

#YOLO

 

**03:06am // Clara**

That's not an answer

 

**03:06am // MI$$Y**

look do u want 2 know about the giant eyeball in the sky or not

 

**03:07am // Clara**

The what?

 

**03:07am // MI$$Y**

giant eyeball

 

**03:07am // Clara**

Missy it's 3am

And I have to get up in 4 hours

Go and pull someone else's leg

 

**03:08am // MI$$Y**

clara

my dear clara

would i lie to u

 

**03:08am // Clara**

Yes

Go and bother The Doctor instead

 

**03:08am // MI$$Y**

</3

 

**03:08am // Clara**

MISSY

 

**03:09am // MI$$Y**

i can't find him

 

**03:09am // Clara**

What do you mean you can't find him

You were just with him

Hunting down a space pirate or something

 

**03:09am // MI$$Y**

i lost him in the baked-bean nebula

 

**03:09am // Clara**

The what?

 

**03:09am // MI$$Y**

baked-bean nebula

 

**03:09am // Clara**

Oh for God's sake

 

**03:10am // MI$$Y**

it's a real place

 

**03:10am // Clara**

Shut up

 

**03:10am // MI$$Y**

u wound me

 

**03:10am // Clara**

Shut up more

 

* * *

 

"DID YOU KNOW THERE'S A _GIANT EYEBALL_ IN THE SKY?!"

 

A Scottish accent rang out. Curtains were flung open. Sunshine streamed into Clara's room.

 

"Mmmmrrhhhmm..." Was the sleepy murmur from the brunette, cocooned tightly in the warm, cozy comfort of her duvet.

 

"A _GIANT EYEBALL,_ CLARA," The Doctor stressed again, even louder this time for dramatic emphasis, "JUST _FLOATING_ IN THE SKY."

 

Despite being half asleep, Clara was _fairly_ sure something in that sentence didn't _quite_ fit. She slowly raised herself onto her elbows and stared at The Doctor through bleary eyes.

 

"Eyeball?....In the sky?"

 

"Not just _any_ eyeball, Clara, keep up!" The Doctor snapped impatiently, gesturing madly out the window, "A _giant_ one! It's like the Earth suddenly has a new _moon_ \- except without the _intense_ tidal surges - look, _look!"_

 

Clara gave a groan and heaved her heavy bones out of bed. Still feeling slightly dazed, she stumbled sleepily over to the window and gave a long yawn, stretching her arms above her head.

 

_"CLARA-"_

"Yeah, yeah, alright. Keep your eyebrows on," Clara said, stifling another yawn, "Where am I meant to be looking-"

 

 _"THE SKY,_ CLARA-"

 

 _"Ohhhh"_ the brunette interjected as she suddenly spotted the colossal eyeball way off in the distance (not that it was particularly hard to miss), "Right. That _is_ pretty big."

 

"Hence 'giant eyeball'."

 

 "Are we...like are we sure it's not just a _really_ ramped up advertisement campaign for the new series of Big Brother?" Clara asked, leaning against the window pane and peering up at the sky suspiciously, "They're probably getting desperate, I heard last series didn't do so well."

 

The Doctor was staring at her incredulously. He was starting to wonder _why_ exactly he chose Clara as his companion at all. "Were you drinking last night or are you _usually_ this slow to start in the morning?"

 

"Are you usually this loud and rude in the morning?"

 

"Fine," The Doctor conceded, waving a hand dismissively. Now wasn't the time to argue. There were bigger things to think about (literally). "I want to take the TARDIS up there, get a few readings off it. I can't tell if it's made out of organic tissue or it's artificial...it could even be a new creature, a symbiotic relationship - it's _very_ exciting, I don't usually draw blanks like this! Are you joining me?"

 

"Yeah-no, wait, wait a second..." Clara's brows were knit together in confusion. A blurry memory about some texts early in the morning. "Oh my god...I think, I think Missy knows about this."

 

 _"Missy_ knows about the giant eyeball in the sky?" The Doctor reiterated, rather unhappily it had to be said, as Clara scurried to her bedside table.

 

"Yeah, she texted me - 'do you want to know about the giant eyeball in the sky or not?'" Clara glanced up from her mobile to stare confusedly at The Doctor and then back out the window at the massive eye in the sky, "I thought she was joking so I didn't take any notice..."

 

This breaking news had come as quite the brutal gut-punch to The Doctor's self-esteem. _He_ was supposed to root out weird and wacky happenings first, _not_ The Master. Or Missy. Or whatever she was calling herself these days. _He'd never live it down._

 

"But...but I came to tell you as fast as I could..." The Doctor murmured despondently, more to himself than to the brunette next to him. What was the point of having a companion if you weren't the first one to tell them about a giant floating eyeball in the sky? _What was the point of anything-_

 

Fortunately Clara didn't have time for such self-absorbed moments so she hurriedly ploughed on with the mystery at hand. "I'll call her. Maybe she can tell us what it is - and whether she's plotting to kill us all with it."

 

"No, Clara, no - don't involve her, _she's insane-"_ The Doctor tried to snatch the mobile out of Clara's hand, only for Clara to swat him away irritably. The two engaged in a minor slapping match before Missy picked up, greeted Clara with a cheery and excessively Scottish "AYE PET, WHAT CAN I DO FOR YOU TODAY", and The Doctor gave a groan of defeat and started pacing the room.

 

"Missy," Clara began, "there's a giant eyeball in the sky."

 

"Aye that there is poppet, that there is," Missy agreed, "One big peeper for sure."

 

"What's it doing there-"

 

"You know," The Time Lady cut in, suddenly sounding highly emotional, "you really hurt my feelings earlier."

 

"I hurt your....what?"

 

"Feelings. There I was trying to tell you about a giant eyeball in the sky - which you _don't see every day_ you know - and all you care about is your _beauty_ sleep. I mean what's a Time Lady got to do around here to get some attention - the two of you go _gallivanting_ about in your nice swanky TARDIS while I'm left here alone with a rusty vortex manipulator - I accidentally ended up materialising in a _dumpster_ the other day Clara and whilst I _did_ find a very nice brooch to add to my collection it was a situation I would have _rather_ avoided if given the choice- I hate to admit it but the stress is causing _havoc_ with my complexion and I couldn't even _finish_ building my death ray because my vortex manipulator is so temperamental I can't travel back to the right time or place and-"

 

Clara slowly moved the mobile away from her ear. The sound of Missy continuing her tirade could still be heard.

 

The Doctor was looking stressed. "What's she saying, _what's she saying?"_

 

"That I...hurt her feelings?" Clara replied, sounding none too sure herself.

 

This was apparently the last straw for The Doctor. With startling agility and speed he darted forward and grabbed the mobile from Clara's grasp - ignoring the annoyed _"Oi!"_ as he did so - and squashed the mobile hard against his ear.

 

"I didn't _mean_ to turn an entire planet into a giant bouncy castle," Missy was explaining, sounding more and more theatrical as time went on, "but when that Judoon tried to put me in handcuffs I thought to myself _whoa there Sonny Jim_ , I don't much like your attitude-"

 

"Missy."

 

"-so I vaporised the city and- _oh!_ Doctor! What a pleasant surprise - !"

 

"Did you put a giant eyeball in the sky?"

 

A groan of annoyance from Missy. "It's just _want, want, want_ with you two today isn't it? Well I'm not telling you anything - you've both _really_ hurt my feelings and-"

 

"YOU DON'T HAVE FEELINGS, YOU'RE A PSYCHOPATH!"

 

"...I'm sensing tension, are you having a bad day Doctor? Would you like me to rub my hands in butter, call myself Paula Deen and give you a massage?"

 

"I - what - no! Shut up!"

 

"Fine, fine, have it your way," Missy said, giving a haughty sniff, "you're missing out though, these hands work _wonders_ if you know what I mean-"

 

"THERE'S AN EYEBALL IN THE SKY," The Doctor snapped, thoroughly flustered and annoyed, "DID YOU PUT IT THERE?"

 

"I MIGHT HAVE DONE," Missy snapped back, just as irritably, "ALL THE BETTER TO KEEP AN _EYE_ ON YOU-"

 

"EXPLAIN NOW-"

 

"I SPY WITH MY LITTLE EYE-"

 

"MISSY-"

 

"SOMETHING BEGINNING WITH D."

 

A short and excessively awkward pause. Clara felt like she was in the middle of watching a domestic between a married couple.

 

"...Doctor?" The Doctor asked hesitantly.

 

"NO, DIMWIT, IT'S DEATH RAY."

 

"OH, WELL _FORGIVE ME_ FOR HOPING IT WASN'T SOMETHING TO DO WITH MURDER-"

 

"OF COURSE YOU'D GO STRAIGHT TO THINKING IT WAS DOCTOR, IT'S ALWAYS  _YOU, YOU, YOU-"_

 

"I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT BE BREAKING FROM CONVENTION, TURNING A NEW LEAF AND TRYING SOMETHING NEW AND SLIGHTLY LESS EVIL BUT THAT'S FINE-"

 

"I HOPE THE TWO OF YOU GET VAPORISED FIRST, I REALLY DO, I'VE DONE NOTHING BUT BE SUPPORTIVE AND YOU STILL HAVEN'T SAID THANK YOU FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY PRESENT-"

 

"YOU KILLED INNOCENT PEOPLE AND CREATED A CYBERMAN _ARMY-"_

 

"WELL _EXCUSE ME_ FOR TRYING TO BE NICE-"

 

"THAT'S IT," The Doctor announced, with a great amount of determination, "I'M PUTTING AN END TO THIS RIDICULOUS EYEBALL SITUATION."

 

"YOU _DARE_ SCRATCH MY EYEBALL, DOCTOR, YOU _DARE_ \- I'M NOT DAVROS YOU KNOW-" Missy began, but by that point The Doctor had already hung up.

 

* * *

 

The giant eyeball was, in fact, made out of some kind of weird alien metal. Not only this but the giant eyeball was, in fact, hollow and seemed to double up as some kind of bizarre headquarters for Missy to reside in as she pondered a hundred thousand ways to bring about the end of the Earth.

 

As it happened, Missy could actually be seen through the iris of the giant metal eyeball as it was made out of glass (space glass? alien glass? space alien glass? Clara didn't know specifics). She was sitting in an old Victorian-looking armchair, daintily sipping a cup of tea.

 

In contrast, The Doctor and Clara were stood in the open doorway of the TARDIS, hovering a few feet away from the glass 'iris'.

 

"This is bloody ridiculous," The Doctor remarked, watching as Missy gave a pleasant wave in their direction.

 

"Yeah but what's she doing?" Clara asked, arms folded across her chest as she leant against the doorway, "She told you this...eyeball thing was a death-ray but when she was talking to me she said she hadn't finished making it."

 

"That's Missy for you," The Doctor said through clenched teeth, "Never trust a word she says."

 

"So do you think she's really going to try and vaporise the whole world?"

 

"I think..." The Doctor began, taking a moment to glance over Missy and weigh up the situation, "...I think she wants attention."

 

"...Attention?"

 

"Yes. So in answer to your question, you're correct - there's a very real possibility she'll vaporise the planet."

 

A pause. Clara's brows were furrowed, deep in thought.

 

"...Why doesn't she just ask to meet up for a coffee or something?"

 

"Because she's like a cat," The Doctor said, "Her way of getting attention is to bring you dead things as a present and then she'll get the hump when you're not _thrilled_ with all the corpses littering your living room."

 

"That's...quite the image," Clara commented, "So what are we going to do?"

 

"Well, Clara," The Doctor replied, pushing off the doorframe and heading back inside the TARDIS, "first we're going to scratch her eye out, _just_ like Davros."


	3. EYE SPY (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #FREECLARA2015

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So The Doctor has a sonic screwdriver in this as opposed to his sonic....sunglasses thing? I mean I just prefer the screwdriver so that's what he's having.
> 
> Also 'frienemy' is definitely a word.

 

The Doctor would have been first to admit his idea hadn't gone _entirely_ according to plan.

 

In fact he _had_ been first to admit it, at _precisely_ the same moment Clara became Missy's captive for the second time in her life. Which was two times too many as it happened.

 

"I admit," The Doctor had yelled, just as Missy firmly dragged Clara into an escape pod and slammed a button to shut the door, "This idea hasn't gone _entirely_ according to plan!"

 

There was a small, circular glass window into the escape pod which meant The Doctor had _just_ enough time to witness Clara's exceptionally heated glare in his direction before there was a triumphant roar of engines and the escape pod blasted off into the atmosphere.

 

It was also at this pivotal moment in time that the giant eyeball had suddenly started to fall down towards the town below, ready to crush everything in its path.

 

* * *

 

Things had started off quite well, or as well as they can when you're facing off with a psychopathic Time Lady holed up in a massive metallic eyeball in the sky.

 

The Doctor had decided the only obvious and sensible course of action to take was to swing a large hooked rod towards the eyeball's 'iris' and, in his words, "scratch out a circle we can hop through."

 

Clara hadn't been a great fan of this idea mainly due to it being completely bloody bonkers, but she'd only been awake for less than a hour and couldn't find the energy to argue. Much, anyway.

 

"This rod thing can cut through...alien glass?"

 

"It's not the rod, Clara, it's the _hook_ on the end. It can cut through most things - it's very ancient and very powerful. I had to wrestle the King of Moosh-Poosh for it."

 

"...The King of Moosh...?"

 

"Poosh, that's correct."

 

Clara had stared blankly at the hooked rod for a few moments more, trying to figure out where _exactly_ her life had taken such a strange and tragic turn.

 

"If that's the case," She'd eventually begun again, just as The Doctor trudged towards the open doorway of the TARDIS with the rod in hand, "Why don't you bring it with us on more adventures? Like, that would have been really, insanely useful on almost every single occasion-"

 

"Yes, but where's the fun in that, Clara?" The Doctor had curtly replied, "Besides, it's very long and _very_ difficult to manoeuvre."

 

This was a point that was effectively impossible to argue against as The Doctor leant as far out of the TARDIS as possible and gave a practical demonstration, swinging the hook towards the giant eyeball as best he could.

 

Unfortunately, the hooked rod was very long, very ungainly and had a habit of suddenly and violently bending the opposite way you wished it to go.

 

"The hook has a mind of its own, you see," The Doctor had enthused, in a rather show-off-ish manner, "Some say it's a kind of collective consciousness of all the past Kings and Queens of Moosh-Poosh - a database if you will - and it's very difficult to get them all to work together-"

 

"But we could just use to TARDIS to get over there-"

 

"No, no, no, she'd be _expecting_ that-"

 

"Well she's _expecting_ this as well, she can literally _see us_ right now-"

 

"Clara would you stop yapping in my ear? I'm trying to concentrate and-"

 

Clara had stopped listening. This was because she'd spotted Missy rising out of her Victorian armchair, an expression of raw, unrestrained disgust on her face.

 

"Doctor," Clara had said, somewhat  hesitantly, "I'm not sure Missy's going to be _too_ thrilled with us scratching her eyeball."

 

"That's the point," The Doctor had said with a grunt (the hooked rod was also very heavy and he was ever so _slightly_ starting to regret this particular idea - not that he'd admit it), "Have you ever had a very old...no - an _ex_ -friend, if you will, and you know _exactly_ what buttons to press to _really_ rattle them?"

 

"Well, sort of, yeah," Clara had said, a confused expression on her face, "But I'm not sure I'd push those buttons if my ex-friend was a psychopathic lunatic about to vaporise the Earth."

 

"Ah, Clara, you're really losing your sense of adventure these days," The Doctor had replied and, with a victorious grin on his face, he'd managed to swing the hook into the 'iris' of the giant eyeball and begun manoeuvring it to cut out a near perfect circle.

 

The horrible scraping noise blended in perfectly with the elongated, and excessively high-pitched, scream of displeasure coming from Missy's open mouth.

 

* * *

 

By the time they'd cut out the hole in the 'iris' and parked the TARDIS close enough to hop through it, Missy had disappeared from view altogether.

 

"She's probably lurking about on the lower levels," The Doctor had said firmly, despite having no evidence to back up such a claim.

 

"Or she could be anywhere," Clara had retorted, glowering about the place, "How do we know this isn't a trap?"

 

"You're _really_ not a morning person, are you?" The Doctor had commented, giving his companion a quick side-eye before striding across the room and scanning the area with his sonic screwdriver.

 

"So...I guess this must be the...control room or something?" Was Clara's suggestion.

 

The room housed a solitary Victorian armchair, an ornate side-table with a half-empty cup of tea on it and, nearer the back, a host of weird looking buttons, controls and instruments.

 

"It would seem so," The Doctor had agreed, waving his screwdriver about, "But appearances are very often deceiving with Missy," He'd held out a hand to Clara and grinned. "Let's explore."

 

Tragically for the both of them, Clara had bounced over to him and grabbed his hand tightly and the pair had skipped obliviously into the open jaws of disaster.

 

* * *

 

It had been a trap, you see. The whole thing. Even the giant eyeball was just a distraction from the far greater threat which was casually orbiting Earth and which Clara was now tragically trapped on.

 

"Would you care for a splosh of tea, dear?" A sing-song voice echoed out, sending a chill down Clara's spine, "You're looking rather parched!"

 

"I'm not parched, I'm pissed off," Clara snapped back with a glare. Although she wasn't really sure _what_ she was glaring at since Missy wasn't so much a physical presence in her holding cell as a cheery voice echoing out over some kind of intercom system.

 

"Oh, the puppy has some _bite!_ " Missy's voice rang out.

 

Clara couldn't tell whether the Time Lady was mocking in tone or genuinely impressed. Either way, The Doctor's latest companion gave a huff of annoyance.

 

"Well," Missy continued, "A _bark_ at least, let's not get carried away with ourselves. I'll pop down in a minute - be the _attentive_ host and all that - how would that be?"

 

Clara scowled. Tugged on the handcuffs which were trapping her to a vertical pipe in the centre of the cell. "Are you going to take _these_ off?"

 

 _"Gracious,_ no," Missy replied, sounding as though she was trying to stifle a laugh at the suggestion, "A good owner doesn't take the leash off their puppy before it's adequately trained now, do they? Besides, I've misplaced the key. I either threw it in a drawer or straight out into the _endless void_ of space. Not sure which," A slight pause, save for a thoughtful hum, "...Oh well - let's crack on, shall we? Lots of vaporising to be done! I might start with Belgium, what do you think?"

 

There was a _click!_ as the intercom was swiftly turned off before Clara could reply and she was instead left to mull over the events leading to her impromptu imprisonment.

 

* * *

 

The giant eyeball had been empty. There were endless corridors and a few empty rooms, sure, but there had been nothing of any interest or use whatsoever. This came as quite the confusing scenario to The Doctor, who had been rather under the assumption that the giant eyeball was, most likely, _a massive death ray_.

 

"But where are the thrusters - the beam chamber - the _gyro collider?!_ You can't have a proper death ray of this magnitude without a good gyro collider, Clara!"

 

"Completely unacceptable, you're right," Clara had agreed, "Maybe her vortex manipulator really _was_ on the blink and this thing is only half-built?"

 

"No, no, this doesn't feel right - none of this makes sense," The Doctor had mused, striding ahead of Clara, "Why would she want us to come _here?_ To this empty husk?"

 

 _"Whoa, whoa, whoa_ _now_ \- steady on - who's calling my giant eyeball a husk?"

 

It was at this vital point in the day that The Doctor had spun around to find his mortal frienemy had appeared from seemingly nowhere and taken his lovely companion hostage.

 

"That's very unnecessary," The Doctor had said immediately, motioning for Clara's release, "Let Clara go."

 

"Shan't," Missy had said simply, stood closely behind Clara who had both arms yanked behind her back. One of the Time Lady's hands had been resting on the handcuffs she'd just clapped Clara into - in one swift movement before the human had time to react - whilst the other hand was clasping a small device with two small circular buttons on it.

 

"I must, however, thank you _very kindly_ for walking into your own coffin  _completely_ of your own freewill," Missy had continued pleasantly, "What's the saying? Curiosity killed the cat?"

 

The first button had been pressed, some kind of strange force field had appeared around The Doctor (Clara hoped to ask for specifics later, if they weren't both dead), and Missy had cheerfully begun tugging Clara back down the other end of the corridor (not without protest from Clara).

 

The second button had been pressed, a door to an escape pod materialised beside them and in went Missy and Clara.

 

"I admit," The Doctor had yelled, hoping his voice travelled through the force field, "This idea hasn't gone _entirely_ according to plan!"

 

Clara had given a furious glare. Engines had roared into life. Into the atmosphere and off into space went the Time Lady and her puppy.

 

Down went The Doctor in the giant eyeball, soon to be crushed along with the town below him.

 

* * *

 

"Can I interest you in some tea? No? Not even herbal? How about peanuts? I have pretzels. Biscuits?"

 

Silence.

 

"Should I be sticking with savoury here, poppet, or flirting with sweet because your current expression leaves _a lot_ to be desired-"

 

"Is The Doctor ok?" Clara interrupted, "Is he alive? What've you done with him?"

 

"Clara, my dear Clara," Missy replied, sounding very strained as she theatrically pinched the bridge of her nose, "If you mention that name _one more time_ while I'm trying to list all the condiments on this trolley I'm going to be _forced_ to cut that lovely pink tongue of yours out, I really am, because you're turning out to be _quite_ the fussy guest and my _limited_ patience is starting, _just starting mind you,_ to wear thin-"

 

"I don't _want_ any of your tea or biscuits, you murderous witch," Clara snapped hotly, "I _want_ to know what you've done to The Doctor and I _want_ to know what you've done to my planet."

 

A long, pained groan from Missy. She leant heavily on the trolley, which was utterly _stacked_ with snacks, and closed her eyes, taking a moment to recollect herself and fight the growing urge to _obliterate everything in her immediate vicinity including Earth-_

 

"Your _incessant_ questions are really beginning to tickle me, Clara," The Time Lady eventually said, eyes still shut, "and not in a way I might have liked-"

 

"You're not going to win you know. He's better than you, smarter than you-"

 

"Oh, yes- _so_ smart he ended up blown up and _very definitely dead_ in a big metal peeper-"

 

"Dead?" Clara echoed.

 

"Dead," Missy confirmed, lazily half opening an eye to take in Clara's reaction, "Sacrificed himself, you know. Managed to remotely initiate the self-destruct sequence on the TARDIS from what I can work out, so it blew up and took the big peeper with it. Millions of tiny little fragments, enough to scratch some cars maybe, but your poxy little town survived."

 

"I don't believe you."

 

"Believe what you will, my darling, but the fact is it's just you, me, this death ray and all of time and space."

 

Clara couldn't reply. Clara couldn't breathe or think straight or do anything. Was it true - was Missy lying? Why had The Doctor just breezed straight into such an obvious trap - why hadn't he seen through it? It wasn't like him - none of this could be happening - he wasn't that stupid. Was he really gone? He hadn't come to rescue her. How long had she even been here?

 

For the first time since being taken hostage, Clara's hands stopped fighting against their restraints.

 

Missy smirked triumphantly.

 

"So which biscuit are you going to start with, pet?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Missy you're teARING THIS FAMILY APART


	4. EYE SPY (The Finale)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Belgium feels personally victimised (by Missy) and a great deal of tea is consumed (by Missy).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you all so much for your support and comments and kudos etc! I've really loved writing this fic so far and I hope you all are having just as much fun reading it.

 

The clock on the wall beside Clara's dining table had struck noon.

 

It was a very loud and obnoxious clock which one of Clara's students had given to her and which she'd put up with a great sense of duty and an even heavier heart. Rather than striking the hour with a simple 'bong' like other clocks might have done, this clock packed a decidedly more modern punch and opted to emit an aggressive dubstep-alarm-bass-drop-kind-of-noise for each hour passed.

 

This was not a welcome addition to the 'peace-talks' Clara was currently trying to hold with one very big-headed Time Lord and one exceptionally irritated Time Lady.

 

_WAAAAAAA-aaaaaaaa-WUB-WUB-WUB-WUB!_ went the clock on the wall.

 

Ice blue eyes filled with murderous rage glared directly into Clara's soul from across the table.

 

"Sorry...I, uh, one of my students...he was switching to another school and wanted to give me a present...so..." Clara trailed off, somewhat sheepishly, as the clock let out another _aaaaAAAAHHHHHHHHHH-WOOB-WOOB-WOOB!_

_"That's not a present that's a curse,"_ Missy hissed through clenched teeth, "He must have _hated you."_

 

"Hey, I don't-"

 

_eeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-UB-UB-AAAAAAA-WUB!_

 

 "It's more like a death sentence," The Doctor piped up, wincing and rubbing his ears, "That racket's enough to drive anyone over the edge-"

 

"You're not helping-"

 

_WUB-WOOB-OOB-OOB-UB-AAAAaaaaaAAA!_

 

Clara gave a defeated sigh and leant back in her chair, arms folded across her chest as she waited for the clock to finish its strikes. Missy still had an infuriated glare locked onto the brunette which didn't fill Clara with a wealth of confidence that these 'talks' were going to work.

 

Three more dubstep strikes bulldozed by.

 

The Doctor opened his mouth to suggest they tear the wretched thing off the wall and drop it into a live volcano at their earliest convenience but Missy, as usual, was a split second ahead with a laser pistol in hand.

 

_waaaAAAHHHHH-WUB-WUB-_ **ZAP** _\- poof!_ went the clock on the wall.

 

Missy let out a sigh of relief and gently placed the laser pistol onto the table.

 

Clara was not so enthused. "Excuse me-"

 

"You are not excused," The Time Lady said.

 

"You can't just-"

 

"And yet I did."

 

"Doctor, could you-"

_"Doctor, could you,"_ Missy mimicked irritably, "You know, owners can put their pets _down_ if they start becoming a nuisance-"

 

"Missy," The Doctor's voice interrupted firmly. The two exchanged a long, hard stare. Clara shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

 

"Fine," Missy said, although her tone suggested it was anything but.

 

"We also agreed not to bring weapons to this talk."

 

"Well Clara had her _clock,"_ Missy pointed out, gesturing vaguely to the scorched mark on the wall.

 

"That wasn't a weapon!" Clara retorted hotly, "That was a gift from a student of mine and you just _blasted it-"_

 

"Oh, well boo-hoo! _Do_ excuse me, Clara, for bringing an end to what can only be described as an instrument of _pure_ _torment-"_

 

"I think," The Doctor's calm voice interrupted, "we could all benefit from a brew."

 

A pause. Missy and Clara's eyes met for a brief moment before moving onto the Time Lord as they simultaneously echoed, "A brew?"

 

"A brew," The Doctor confirmed. Clara couldn't help but notice the look of resigned pain on his face as he said it.

 

Missy, in contrast, seemed to be blissfully unaware or wilfully ignorant. "I never thought the day would come, Doctor," she began emotionally, taking out a handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes, "you...me...a teapot...maybe some biscuits?" The last few words were suggested hopefully, almost childishly, as Missy peered over the top of her handkerchief.

 

The Doctor, looking as though _every ounce_ of his strength and willpower was being called into action, forced himself to nod.

 

Missy was positively beaming.

 

"Clara," The Time Lady said, "Be a good pup and go and put the kettle on, would you?"

 

_"I don't think so-"_

 

The Doctor cleared his throat. Gave Clara a look that was almost pleading.

 

Clara gave him a scowl back but rose to her feet all the same. "Fine. But I'm doing it for him, not for you. Not after what happened with that _bloody snack trolley."_

 

* * *

Clara had been handcuffed to the snack trolley and sent careering out of a giant hole in the holding cell wall, courtesy of Missy having "had it up to the pins in my hair with the bloody Doctor!"

 

Clara had thought about a lot of things as she rocketed through the air, trapped to a trolley which had biscuits and teabags flying off it. She mainly thought about how she didn't want to die - especially in a way as undignified as this - and also about how she hoped she wasn't about to get impaled by any of the pieces of debris raining down from the wrecked death ray above her. She also thought about how much she despised Missy, despised her cruelty and laughter and those horrible ice blue eyes, despised her hair, despised the colour purple, despised plums for that matter, despised the red of her lipstick like someone had taken a knife to her mouth and slit it open, red, red, red like the blood on her hands, despised her for what she did to Danny, for what she did to so many people, for handcuffing her to a _bloody trolley and sending her falling to her death_ after they'd almost begun to get along in some weird, twisted kind of way.

 

_"We could have fun, you and I,"_ Missy's velvety soft voice echoed in her head, _"I'd take you to see collapsing stars and the ends of whole galaxies. Black holes and colliding planets. It's beautiful, watching how things end so suddenly and simply."_

 

A bit like how Clara was going to come crashing to the Earth, broken and bloody and dead with a snack trolley and biscuits around her, the brunette supposed.

 

* * *

"Are you sure I can't tempt you with a nice chocolate bourbon biscuit?" Missy had asked, still leaning on the trolley, "I hear they're all the rage at the moment. Or was that ten years ago?" A pause as Missy, for once, looked genuinely stumped. "Jog a Time Lady's memory, darling, what year is it again?"

 

"You were lying, weren't you? About him being dead."

 

"May my mind remain as strong as my body," Missy had said to herself, as though under great strain, "I'm rather regretting bringing you on board Clara dear, it's like living with a permanently depressed parrot-"

 

"If you've hurt him-"

 

"Oh, what - _you'll do what?"_ Missy had snapped, pushing off from the trolley to begin half-walking, half-dancing around the pipe Clara was handcuffed to, "Poor, lonely little Clara, helpless, sad, lost little puppy-"

 

"Shut up-"

 

"First Danny, now the Doctor - not very good at holding onto the ones you love, are you Clara dear?"

 

"I said shut up," Clara had replied, sounding no way near as tough and intimidating as she might have liked, "It's not like you're exactly surrounded by friends, is it?"

 

"I have you," Missy had said pleasantly, dance-dancing around her, skirt grazing against the metal floor.

 

Clara had scoffed at that. "We're not friends."

 

"Aren't we?"

 

"No."

 

Missy had suddenly come to a halt in front of Clara. Leant in closely and tucked a stray strand of hair behind an ear.

 

"We could have fun, you and I," Missy had said, voice softer than usual, "I'd take you to see collapsing stars and the ends of whole galaxies. Black holes and colliding planets. It's beautiful, watching how things end so suddenly and simply."

 

Clara hadn't known quite what to do at this juncture, mainly because despite every fibre in her body screaming at her _to fight, to run_ \- she couldn't help but want to stay and stare into those ice blue eyes a little longer - maybe even follow the lunatic Time Lady to the edges of the universe and try to understand what _exactly_ it was in death and disaster that she found so alluring-

 

A sudden, powerful jolt. Missy had grabbed rather heavily onto Clara's shoulders to remain upright. The Time Lady's expression had switched instantly into one of white-hot rage.

 

Then, as it became evident that Missy's precious death ray had come under a swift and very forceful attack, and that it was already beginning to fall back to Earth, Missy had opened her mouth and let out a furious, pent-up roar of: _"I HAVE HAD IT UP TO THE PINS IN MY HAIR WITH THE BLOODY DOCTOR!"_

 

* * *

It was eventually revealed that the whole giant eyeball/death ray debacle was an elaborate plan orchestrated by Missy so she could get some 'special-one-on-one-girly-alone-time' with The Doctor's dear companion.

 

"You built a _giant, metallic floating eyeball_ and a _fully-functioning death ray_ so you could _spend some time_ with Clara?" The Doctor said, unable - and not for the first time - to fully comprehend Missy's motives, "Why didn't you just use your vortex manipulator to time-travel into this flat?!"

 

At this suggestion Missy daintily added another handful of sugar cubes into her cup of tea, waved her other hand dismissively at the whole topic and stated "Well, it was all rather on a whim."

 

* * *

Clara had been ready to meet her untimely demise. She'd been ready for the crunch and the inevitable blackness to follow. She'd _definitely_ been ready to be free of the accursed snack trolley and to never, ever clap eyes on Missy's insufferable smirking face again.

 

Fortunately, The Doctor had other plans and Clara had found herself dive-bombing headfirst through the open doors of the TARDIS and slap-bang into the middle of a swimming pool.

 

* * *

"Isn't anybody going to ask how _I_ survived?" The Doctor asked as Clara began dutifully pouring _yet another_ cup of tea for Missy (who was watching the brunette do so with a _very_ satisfied smirk on her face).

 

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Clara replied, trying her best to ignore the fact Missy had practically begun _purring_ , "You're The Doctor."

 

"Well, yes," The Doctor agreed, always ready and willing to boost his massively inflated ego, "But don't you want to know specifics? About how I _knew_ the giant eyeball was a decoy all along - so I unattached the hook from the rod of Moosh-Poosh when you weren't looking and kept it hidden in my pocket - about how the hook allowed me to _cut_ through that force field? Don't you want to know about how I blew up the eyeball with nothing but the hook of Moosh-Poosh, a wad of chewing gum and a passing pigeon, before I leapt into the TARDIS and made my way up to the death ray-"

 

"Wait-what? A wad of chewing gum and a passing pigeon?" Clara interrupted, halting her tea-pouring duties much to Missy's displeasure.

 

The Doctor's face lit up and he leant forwards, all hand gestures and excited eyebrows. "Well, Clara, it wasn't easy but using the energy from the force field and the hook as a conductor I managed to-"

 

"Doesn't anybody want to know how _I_ managed to build a giant metallic eyeball and get it to stay _floating_ like a cloud in the sky?" Missy's voice cut in, jealous and impatient.

 

"I think causing  a massive _explosion_ with gum and a pigeon whilst _imprisoned_ in a _force field_ is a _bit_ more impressive than that," The Doctor remarked pompously, turning back to Clara to continue his story, "So I had the hook and I-"

 

"I vaporised the whole of Belgium," Missy said matter-of-factly, picking up her cup of tea and taking a delicate sip.

 

* * *

The Doctor had used some kind of large bazooka which warped gravity to blast Missy's death ray out of orbit and back through the atmosphere, where it broke up into tiny pieces of debris that would go largely unnoticed by the population of Earth.

 

This had been something he'd told Clara with _great_ excitement and arrogance as he'd helped her out of the swimming pool in the TARDIS. Clara hadn't been _quite_ as inspired by his story as he might have liked, most likely due to the fact she was still coming to terms with rocketing down out of the sky with a snack trolley attached to her wrists as the great expanse of Earth came up to meet and probably kill her.

 

In fact, after stumbling out of the pool and leaning heavily on The Doctor - who had stared quizzically at the handcuffs and "...snack trolley?" - Clara had unfortunately had to announce the fact she was about to be sick.

 

* * *

After much searching and panicking, Belgium was still to be found. On a small rocky planet 15 light-years away, to be precise.

 

"Missy you can't just de-materialize and re-materialize _entire countries_ whenever you feel like it," The Doctor stressed after they'd managed - not without great effort and forced teamwork - to get Belgium back into place on Earth, "It's not acceptable. It's _dangerous_ and _thoughtless_ and-"

 

"Brilliant," Missy interrupted with a pleased smirk as she linked an arm through The Doctor's, "You have to admit, it's just a _wee_ bit brilliant."

 

The Doctor gave an elongated and very exasperated sigh in response, but both of them knew deep down there was a not-so-tiny part of him that was really quite impressed.

 

* * *

"Isn't anybody going to ask how _I_ survived?" Missy whined unhappily as Clara set about tidying the cups of tea away.

 

"Escape pod," Clara and The Doctor said simultaneously.

 

"Oh, you two are no fun," Missy remarked irritably, leaning back in her chair and scowling for all she was worth.

 

* * *

The 'peace-talks' had ended in a rather unsettled and begrudging manner. This was because The Doctor was too impressed by his own accomplishments that day to really worry too much about the gravity of what Missy had done, whilst Missy was too flighty and contrary to get any substantial or genuine information out of.

 

"Are you or are you not going to try and kidnap me and vaporise the world again?" Clara was demanding as The Doctor leant in the open doorway of his TARDIS and Missy began fiddling with the controls on her vortex manipulator.

 

"No, no, no, of course not," Missy replied dismissively, not seeming _at all_ invested in the discussion, "You know, I mean maybe, I don't know. I might be your owner but I can't _really_ be held accountable for your welfare-"

 

"You don't _own_ me," Clara spluttered indignantly, glancing to The Doctor for help. He gave a roll of his eyes and held up his hands as if admitting defeat before disappearing into the depths of the TARDIS.

 

"Well, pet," Missy replied, looking up from her vortex manipulator to fix Clara with an impish smirk, "We both know you were _rather_ catching onto the idea of travelling the stars with me, weren't you? Before old spoil sport blew up my death ray."

 

_"I was not!"_

 

_"Shhh, shh, shhhh,_ don't worry too much about it, poppet," Missy said, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "It'll be _our_ little girly secret."

 

And without so much as a 'Sorry I threw you out of an exploding death ray with a snack trolley handcuffed to you', Missy was gone.

 

From way inside the TARDIS, The Doctor's voice rang out:

_"Clara, why are there so many bourbon biscuits in my swimming pool?"_


	5. Missy-Sitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clara essentially, and very begrudgingly, becomes Missy's babysitter. Also: giant android prawns.

 

"Well my mum always said a soufflé isn't a soufflé; a soufflé is a recipe."

 

 _"Yeeee-eeesss,_ well, I'm starting to see where you got your brains from, pet. Or lack thereof-"

 

_"Don't insult my mum-"_

 

"I mean, you're _evidently_ no Delia Smith. This soufflé's about as risen as the lost city of Atlantis - which wasn't so much lost as destroyed really...nasty little business with a Chronovore..." Missy trailed off, ice blue eyes drifting from the ruined soufflé on the countertop to gaze nostalgically into the distance (which anti-climactically compromised of Clara's kitchen wall).

 

"A...Chronovore?" Clara echoed back, brows scrunched together and nose wrinkled in confusion.

 

"Aye...aye," Missy replied softly, gaze shifting back to the soufflé disaster, "A bit of a miscalculation on my part, back when I had a goatee. I thought I could control the wee bugger with my TOMTIT."

 

"Tom tit?" Clara echoed again.

 

"TOMTIT," Missy confirmed, "Transmission of Matter Through Interstitial Time."

 

"...Not a very good acronym was it-"

 

"You know, I would appreciate it if you'd have the decency to just _shut your little snapper for one_ _moment_ , Clara," Missy interrupted, already using one hand to steady herself on the countertop whilst the other came up to pinch the bridge of her nose (as was habit when she was feeling rather theatrical), "I'm feeling quite _emotional_ at the memory as it happens-"

 

"And you had a _goatee?"_

 

A long, exasperated sigh from Missy. The hand came down from her nose to rest on her hip as she fixed Clara with a long, hard stare.

 

A few awkward moments flitted by. Clara crossed her arms stubbornly across her chest. If it was a staring contest Missy wanted then it was a staring contest _she would have-_

 

"Do you have something against goatee's, Clara?" Missy suddenly questioned, "Do you not think I would suit one?"

 

A slight shrug from the brunette. "I just never really imagined you with one."

 

"Well I did have one," Missy continued, sounding almost wistful, "More than once, actually, if you must know. They were lovely...very soft, _so-ooft, saaaaaft-"_

 

It was at this tragic point in Clara's life that she found herself stood in her kitchen, a ruined soufflé on the countertop next to her and a completely bonkers Time Lady in front of her, who was stroking an imaginary goatee and repeating - no, _singing_ \- the word 'soft' in increasingly bizarre pitches and accents as she started to dance around the room.

 

* * *

"THERE'S NO TIME TO EXPLAIN," The Doctor had shouted, practically tossing Missy out of his TARDIS and into Clara's living room, "GIANT PRAWNS - ANDROID TIME PRAWNS - ON THE HUNT FOR HER - SHE TRIED TO MAKE A SEAFOOD RISSOTO - IT ALL GOT A BIT PERSONAL - VERY COMPLICATED - SHE MUSN'T LEAVE THIS FLAT - _UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCE,_ CLARA, THERE ARE PRAWNS _EVERYWHERE_ \- YOU'LL BE SAFE HERE - _ONLY HERE_ \- I'VE SET UP A SHIELDING MECHANISM - _STAY IN THIS FLAT-"_

 

"If they're on the hunt for her then just let them have her!" Clara had interjected hotly - having taken _none too kindly_ to an insane Time Lady being unceremoniously _dumped_ in her flat on a Sunday afternoon, "She's a psychopath who keeps trying to _kill us_ \- why are you _saving her-"_

 

"OH CLARA," The Doctor had brazenly bulldozed over her, "SINCE WHEN DID YOU GET SO _HEARTLESS?_ I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ALL THIS SAVING PEOPLE STUFF - CAN'T REALLY DISCRIMINATE NOW, CAN WE - WHERE WOULD WE DRAW THE LINE-"

 

 _"Exactly here_ \- we would draw it _here,_ Doctor-"

 

"STAY IN THE FLAT, CLARA - _IN THE FLAT!"_

 

And with that, The Doctor and his TARDIS had disappeared.

 

Missy, in direct and soul-crushing contrast, had been making herself at home on the sofa next to Clara. Rather too close for comfort, if truth be told.

 

"Tell you a secret, poppet - _I don't even like risotto's,"_ The Time Lady had said, giving a broad and more than slightly mentally unhinged smile. She'd started leaning in _very close_ to Clara's face, with _very wide eyes._

 

Clara hadn't been able to shake the feeling that she was absolutely definitely _one hundred percent_ going to be murdered that very day.

 

* * *

Clara was eating a soufflé (although to call it a soufflé would be an "insult to the entire human history of the culinary arts" as Missy had put it in a decidedly heated moment as the two of them had stared at the deflating abomination in the oven).

 

The soufflé was not pleasant and Clara was not happy.

 

"It's good manners to have some anyway," She snapped at the Time Lady, who was seated beside her at the countertop, "If you're a guest in someone's house you're meant to eat what you're given and say thanks."

 

No response. Missy was far more interested in staring at herself in her compact mirror as she applied another layer of lipstick.

 

"Who _exactly_ brought you up?" Clara continued hot-headedly, brandishing her spoon at her unwelcome guest, "Are Time Lords even _taught_ manners or are you all as arrogant and selfish as-"

 

"Clara, dear, I fear it may be too late but I should probably let you know I stopped listening to your _inane_ ramblings at least ten minutes ago," Missy said pleasantly, taking a moment to admire her reflection, "I'd rather hoped you might tire yourself out with the sheer stupidity of what you were saying but alas, 'twas in vain-"

 

"Well if you're not enjoying your present company I think you'll find the feeling's mutual and you can just _get out of my flat-"_

 

"It is a tale, told by an idiot," Missy interrupted, amidst a new bout of lipstick application, "Full of sound and fury," (a smack of blood red lips), "Signifying nothing."

 

Silence settled. Missy, apparently satisfied with the state of her lipstick, laid her compact mirror down gently on the countertop. Glanced around the kitchen disinterestedly.

 

"...That's Macbeth," Clara said, ears going slightly red, "I...yeah, message received."

 

A bored sigh from Missy. Staying cooped up indoors and helping bake botched soufflés wasn't something that naturally fell within the Time Lady's interests.

 

"If only something wicked this way would come," Missy murmured unhappily, plucking the spoon out of Clara's grasp and plunging it into the unsavoury depths of the sunken soufflé.

 

* * *

There was a giant android prawn in Clara's flat.

 

This was something which had happened very suddenly, very drastically and without any prior warning. It was also a twist in Clara's life which she felt was massively unfair, due to the fact she'd _only_ _just_ managed to keep Missy occupied with a particularly difficult Sudoku puzzle.

 

"YOU HAVE BROKEN THE TENTH LAW," The android prawn declared in a raspy, mechanical kind of way, "UNDER DECLARATION 101 YOU WILL COMPLY WITH YOUR TERMINATION."

 

Rather than giving an expression which actually befitted a person about to be executed, Missy was _positively beaming_ at this grievous news _._

 

"You know, that's the nicest thing anyone's said to me _all day!"_ The Time Lady replied.

 

Precisely one second later the android prawn opened fire with a blaster gun, Missy vaulted across the dining table to engage _whole-heartedly_ in battle (armed only with a hairpin), and Clara was left to scream very loudly in terror as she tried to dodge all incoming projectiles.

 

* * *

Unfortunately for The Doctor's companion, dodging lasers from an android prawn's blaster gun in the confined space of her flat, without _any given warning,_ wasn't an activity she regularly pursued. As such, Clara Oswald had been hit - or "splished" as Missy cheerily referred to it - by one of the laser blasts and was now fighting to stay conscious on the floor.

 

"Just...took me by surprise, was all," She said through clenched teeth as Missy gracefully dropped to her knees beside her to inspect the damage, "Don't usually...get hit. Very quick...quick reflexes-"

 

"Enough yapping," Missy ordered, pressing a finger firmly to Clara's lips, "I know I said you were a puppy but must you _really_ go bouncing headlong into danger at _any_ given opportunity?"

 

"An alien...robot prawn _materialised_ in my flat! I didn't go _looking_ for it-"

 

Unsurprisingly, Missy wasn't listening. She was mulling over the wound in Clara's left side, shaking her head solemnly. "Pity, pity. What a horrible, gory mess. Looks a bit like your soufflé. Still, suppose I'd better do my best to keep you ticking over - wouldn't want to upset The Doctor now he's started inviting me for the occasional trip in his TARDIS now would we?"

 

And with a defeated android prawn laying haphazardly across Clara's dining table (emitting the occasional broken beeping noise), Missy tore off a sleeve of Clara's shirt - much to the brunette's annoyance - and pressed it _hard_ against Clara's wound.

 

Clara tried her best to ignore the fact Missy was _smiling excessively_ at every wince and yelp of pain she made.

 

* * *

Missy was a terrible nurse. This was mainly because it involved a lot of patience, concern and goodwill - not to mention an ability to tend to wounds in a manner that wasn't entirely sadistic. The fact that such a psychotic temperament hadn't naturally bred a gifted nurse didn't come as a surprise to Clara, but it was a little unfortunate given the fact she'd just taken the full brunt of an android prawn's blaster gun.

 

"Are you really not any better yet, pet?" Was the sudden demand from the Time Lady, impatient as ever as she leant down to Clara's level (lying forlornly on the sofa) to stare hard into her eyes, "It's been a _quarter of an hour."_

 

"I've literally just been shot," Clara snapped back, indignant and steely even when wounded.

 

 _"A quarter of an hour ago,"_ Missy repeated again, as if stating a very obvious but no less mystifying truth, "And you're _still_ as weak and floppy as a fish. I mean it beggars belief how you apes get anything done - what do you do if you break a leg or take an axe to the back of the head? Do you just....." Missy trailed off, trying to find the right word whilst gesturing madly to the entirety of Clara's body, "...stop?! Do you just _stop?!"_

 

"Yeah, we just stop!" Clara retorted irritably, "What are you expecting me to do?! I don't have nice _glowy_ regeneration abilities like you-"

 

"Well yes, _do_ make this all about _you, you, you,_ Clara!" Missy cut in, snapping upright again to stalk over to the television set, then to the window, then back to Clara's side, then over to the coffee table - up, down, up, down, - she had a complete inability to stay still, eerily akin to The Doctor, "No thought about _me_ and how _I've_ suffered today-"

 

"Suffered?" Clara spluttered, "This is all _your_ fault - this whole situation!"

 

"Oh, don't be so selfish!" Missy snapped, pace-pace-pacing up and down, "Do you have any idea - any idea _at all_ \- what it's like to have lived for thousands and _thousands_ of years, travelling the stars, hopping from one universe to another, watching _whole civilisations_ rise and crumble, only to find yourself wound up in the timeline of this sort of..." Missy paused to cast a disheartened glance over Clara's body, "...this sort of insignificant...pea-minded _potato_ I see before me-"

 

"Hey - !"

 

 _"No, no, no,_ Clara Oswald, the tragedy doesn't end _there!"_ Missy cut in, wagging a finger accusingly in the human's direction, "Because to add insult to what is already a _grave injury_ on my dignity, this potato - this puppy - this pet - this infuriating, brown-eyed _thing_ \- tries to capture some _modicum_ of my interest by suggesting we bake a soufflé - a _soufflé_ of all things! - and yet she doesn't even know how to bake one _herself_ \- the audacity and stupidity is _astounding!_ \- and when I think, _when I just think to myself,_ things can't _possibly_ become any more _inane_ or _insipid_ than they already are - she goes and gets herself _shot_ \- leaving me, with all my _brains_ and _brilliance_ , to _languish_ here in this poorly decorated prison cell while she takes _over a quarter of an hour_ to recover!"

 

It was at this point that Missy seemed to have finally worn herself out and she collapsed theatrically into an armchair opposite Clara, a hand resting dramatically over her closed eyes.

 

Clara wanted to snap. Clara wanted to say something full of venom and hatred and anger - something about how ridiculous it was that such a brilliant mind wasted all its energy on being so childish and _completely bloody bonkers_ all the time - but something in Missy's character suddenly changed - suddenly shifted from flamboyant theatrics to...to something much more weary and old - something that Clara couldn't quite place. Something that caused Clara to bite back a retort and wait for the Time Lady to speak again.

 

"You know," Missy said at great length, eyes still closed and voice soft, "it's at times like this I can hear the drumming again."

 

* * *

_Taptaptap-tap, taptaptap-tap, taptaptap-tap,_ went Missy's fingers on the Rubik's cube.

 

"I should probably let you know, darling, Rubik was a great friend of mine."

 

"Was?"

 

"Entirely depends what year it is, poppet."

 

"And he was your...friend?" Clara sounded none too convinced.

 

"Well...as close as can be," Missy replied, turning a face of the cube once or twice before beginning on another, "I took him places from time to time."

 

"...You mean you kidnapped him?"

 

"Only a wee few times, just to hold the odd ransom, you know how it is."

 

"You're unbelievable," Clara said, "And don't take that as a compliment."

 

"Mmmm," Missy hummed, finishing the Rubik's cube with one final turn of a coloured face, "But it was _agonisingly_ close. Go on, surprise a Time Lady and say something nice."

 

"No way."

 

"Just a quick description. A wee once-over."

 

"No."

 

"I'm _dying_ to know what your little nanobrain thinks of me."

 

"Wasting your breath, Missy."

 

Missy gave a pout at that and turned her attention back to the Rubik's cube, gazing at her handiwork with a bored expression.

 

 _Taptaptap-tap, taptaptap-tap, taptaptap-tap,_ went Missy's fingers on the Rubik's cube.

 

"Well," Clara suddenly began, not entirely sure where she was going with her sentence or, more importantly, _why,_ "you're...I suppose...you know, you're quite...uhm..." The brunette trailed off, trying to settle on the right description.

 

Surprisingly, Missy's interest seemed to have been piqued for the first time since the android prawn disaster. Her ice blue eyes were fixed on Clara, with one elegant brow arched in attention.

 

Clara tried not to get distracted by the intense gaze - which was more than a bit difficult seeing as when something grabbed Missy's attention she rather had the habit of looking at it like she wanted to _throttle it to death_ \- and instead focused on her next words.

 

"The Doctor showed me a brilliant star once," Clara began, propping herself up onto her elbows with a slight wince, "It was so bright and blinding it stood out from all the others in the whole system. It... _demanded_ attention - you couldn't help but be in awe of it, get lost in the brilliant white light. But then we went back...hundreds of thousands of years later, maybe more, and it had collapsed in on the weight of itself. It'd become so dense, so dark, it was greedily pulling in all the other stars around it, consuming everything that came close. The Doctor said it'd been such a large star that its collapse was still continuing, that nothing could stop it, that he'd been back to see it again, even tens of thousands of years later, and it was still collapsing, still hungrily absorbing other stars, still growing. But despite its size and power...I felt nothing but sadness when I looked into it. Just a lonely void in space, consuming any star that dared stray too close."

 

Clara paused, sinking back down onto the sofa and tearing her gaze away from Missy's. She suddenly felt like she was the one being weighed up, measured, stripped down to her bare bones with nothing to hide.

 

"You sort of remind me of that," Clara finished, voice so quiet it was barely audible.

 

The Time Lady heard, of course, and dropped her gaze back to the Rubik's cube, twirling it around in her hand.

 

"Well," Missy said, "If I'm the black hole then that rather makes you the stray star, don't you think, poppet?"

 

* * *

The Doctor couldn't have appeared back in Clara's flat soon enough. She and Missy had resorted to a game of Monopoly out of sheer desperation and things had taken a rather heated and hostile turn when Missy brazenly flicked five of Clara's houses off the board and claimed it was 'a Vespiform attack'.    

_"That's not how this game works,"_ Clara said through clenched teeth.

 

 _"I'm making it more realistic,"_ Missy hissed back, tossing one of the miniature houses at Clara and giving a delighted smile when it hit her forehead with a small _thunk!_

 

"THE PRAWNS HAVE RETREATED," The Doctor suddenly and loudly declared upon tumbling out of his TARDIS and into the living room, "AGREED TO GIVE UP THE CHASE - HAD TO USE A VERY BIG FISHING NET - IT'S A LONG STORY - WAIT - ARE YOU PLAYING MONOPOLY?"

 

A bewildered, bushy-eyebrowed stare from The Doctor as he took in the scene. "You two? Monopoly?" He repeated, pointing from Clara to Missy and back again, _"...Monopoly, really?"_

 

"Well young puppy brain over here can't move much, she only went and _jumped_ into the path of a stray laser-" Missy began.

 

"Laser?" The Doctor echoed immediately, all concern and confusion, "One of the prawns got in _here?_ Are you alright - Clara - are you hurt?"

 

Clara gave a smile - almost apologetic - as The Doctor rushed to her side, kneeling beside the sofa. "I'm fine, Doctor, really. Just bad luck."

 

"The laser got deflected," Missy explained, "from some _obnoxious_ silver platter-"

 

"My mum got me that!" Clara said indignantly, trying to rise to her elbows only for The Doctor to gently ease her back down again.

 

"Rest, Clara, rest," He said, owlish eyes large and anxious, "Just ignore her, she doesn't know what she's saying, she's mad-"

 

 _"Excuse me,_ I think you'll find you're not _entirely_ sane yourself-"

"Don't put me in the same boat as you, you're a _psychopath-"_

 

"A psychopath you _chose_ to save-"

 

"I'm trying to be the better person here, Missy-"

 

 _"Oooh-ho!_ Well aren't you _always_ , big boy-"

 

"Wait a second," Clara said, causing a halt to both The Doctor and Missy's ravings, "You...you threw that platter in my direction - I saw you!"

 

An awkward pause as Clara and The Doctor fixed Missy with accusing glares.

 

Missy gave a sniff. Adjusted her skirt slightly. "I don't...don't know what you're talking about there, lassy-"

 

"I thought that platter had been tossed across the room by accident, in amongst all the fighting," Clara continued, anger growing by the second, "Oh my god, you did it on purpose, didn't you? So the laser would get deflected and I'd get hit?"

 

"Missy," The Doctor said, practically a growl in its fury.

 

"You know, I'm feeling a jot harassed," Missy commented, all theatrical emotion once more, "You both seem to be forgetting that it was _I_ who tended to her wounds-"

 

"In a very spiteful manner," Clara snapped, glowering for all she was worth.

 

"Not to mention that you _wouldn't have needed to_ , had you not _ensured_ Clara got hit by the laser in the first place," The Doctor added, rising to his feet and standing before Clara protectively, "I can't believe how stupid I've been. Taking you on trips with us - travelling the stars again - as if you could _ever_ be trusted with those dearest to me. I wanted to see the best in you, really I did, I even thought that this regeneration might've been different somehow-"

 

"Doctor, honestly, is this _necessary-"_

 

"Missy, if I were you, I'd run."

 

"But I've just bought Mayfair-" Missy began.

 

"Now," The Doctor said, eyes narrow.

 

It surprised no one when Missy took one last, quick aim, said "We both know you and your eyebrows can't stay mad at me forever," and sent a tiny Monopoly house rocketing square between The Doctor's eyes before she disappeared from view altogether.


	6. The Trouble With Takeaways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is absolutely no pizza to be seen.

 

               When Bill Potts ordered a takeaway, she hadn’t envisaged the delivery being made by a woman clad almost entirely in some kind of Victorian get-up, save for a small baseball cap with a bold logo for ‘GLORP’S GALACTIC KITCHEN’ on the front.

 

               And yet, here she was. On her doorstep. One hand resting on a hip as the other offered a small delivery bag to The Doctor’s latest bewildered companion.

 

               “Your delivery, dearie,” The woman prompted, with a cheeky wink to boot, “I think you’ll find it _very much_ to your liking.”

 

               “…Right,” Bill replied, rather uncertainly, taking the delivery bag and peering inside.

 

               An awkward pause. The contents of the bag were, unquestionably, not of the takeaway pizza variety as Bill had hoped. She glanced up to the woman, who raised both her eyebrows and gave a suggestive click of the tongue, as if Bill should be thoroughly impressed with this particular delivery.

 

               “Don’t get to feast your eyes on that every day now, do you?” The woman said, not without a small amount of pride.

 

               How best to explain that, whilst the contents of the bag were glowing most delightfully and impressively, Bill had, in fact, ordered a pepperoni pizza?

 

               “I, uh…I’m sorry but this isn’t my order. I think you’ve made a mistake,” Bill began delicately.

 

               “Oh! I _do_ apologise!” The woman replied, placing a hand theatrically over her heart(s) in shock, “Did you not ask for the Antimatter Bacon, Radioactive Worms and a side of Nucleoslaw?”

 

               “Nucleo-what? No, I ordered a pizza-”

 

               “Well, this does put us in a wee spot of trouble, doesn’t it? Never mind, never mind, I’m sure you’ll find it to your tastes despite appearances.”

 

               Another pause. Bill stood, a slight frown on her face, as the glowing delivery bag began to wriggle gently in her hands. The woman now had her hands clasped together almost nervously, smiling politely as if she hadn’t just delivered a radioactive galactic takeaway to the wrong customer at all.

 

               “…It’s…moving,” Bill said slowly and deliberately, hoping the woman would at some point understand the grave insanity of the whole situation.

 

               No such luck, however, as a very faint scowl began to settle across the woman’s features. “Am I not going to get a tip?”

 

               “What?”

 

               “A tip. Am I not going to get one?”

 

               “You brought me the wrong order,” Bill said, “and it’s glowing and alive.”

 

               “Very rude, I must say. _Very_ inconsiderate. You might as well call yourself Clara at this rate-”

 

               “Who’s Clara-”

 

               “Did you know,” The woman interrupted irritably, _“did you know,_ I’ve had to work my way up the _entire_ galactic fast-food career ladder just to ensure I could deliver this very nice meal to you, today, personally, by my very own hands, which are _worn to the bone might I add_ from all the deep-frying and burger-flipping-”

 

               “Galactic fast-food?” Bill echoed, eyebrows raised.

 

               “Do you think it was easy having to work with Glorp the Inexorable Chef?” The woman continued, undeterred, “Known as such because his kitchen _literally never stops_ – stuck in its own time loop no less – have you ever flipped _five thousand burgers_ , one after the other, without stopping for so much as a cup of tea – I was parched, _parched!”_

 

               A small, knowing smile was beginning to tug at the sides of Bill’s mouth. She briefly gave the strange woman a once over before glancing at the wriggling delivery bag again. There was only one explanation for this particularly bizarre moment in her life.

 

               “You know The Doctor, don’t you?”

 

               The woman gave a long-suffering groan, closed her eyes and took a moment to pinch the bridge of her nose, as if undergoing a very severe bout of flashbacks. “You know just once, _just once,_ I would like to deliver a bag of radioactive worms to someone without them making it all about some bushy eyebrowed otter, I really would.”

 

               “Always thought he looked more like a penguin,” Bill said with a grin, “Have you seen him run?”

 

               The woman lowered her hand from her nose and peered at Bill, a mischievous glint in her eyes and a faintly amused smile beginning to appear on her lips. “Well, well, well, this is a surprise. Maybe we will get along after all, my wee billy goat gruff.”

 

* * *

 

 

**07:38pm //** **Bill**  

So…didn’t know you had a girlfriend

**07:39pm // DoctorWHO**

I don’t

There was a confusing business with an Astro Jellyfish awhile back

Had to go into hiding for two hundred years

All smoothed over now though

Sometimes I still think I see a tentacle out the corner of my eyes

 

**07:41pm //** **Bill**  

Right, you need to explain that whole story to me later

Cos it’s not ok to just slip tentacles into a conversation

But first there’s someone sat at my table

Eating glowing worms

And saying she’s your girlfriend

Any idea who it is?

 

**07:42pm // DoctorWHO**

I’m very popular, Bill

Very in demand

It could be anyone

Ask her what her name is

 

**07:42pm //** **Bill**  

She says you know who it is

Then she winked

And ate a worm suggestively

 

**07:43pm // DoctorWHO**

How can you eat a worm suggestively?

You know what never mind

What does she look like?

You’re not giving me very much to go on here, Bill

 

**07:43pm //** **Bill**  

Alright keep your eyebrows on!

She looks like she’s wandered off the set of

Like

A steampunk version of Downton Abbey

 

**07:44pm // DoctorWHO**

I’M ON MY WAY

KEEP AWAY FROM THE MAD WOMAN AND HER GLOWING WORMS

 

**07:44pm //** **Bill**  

That’s…definitely a sentence I never thought I’d read

 

**07:44pm // DoctorWHO**

BILL

 

**07:44pm //** **Bill**  

Yeah alright! I’m steering clear!

 

 

* * *

 

               Bill Potts was not steering clear.

 

               Completely against her better judgement, she found something deeply captivating about the strange Galactic Victorian Fast-Food Courier who was sat at her kitchen table, slurping up the last of the glowing worms, and found herself sitting opposite her as the woman opened her mouth to speak.

 

               “Quite a delicacy, quite the _pièce de résistance,_ far superior to soufflé’s, although I suppose…”  The woman trailed off and gazed somewhat forlornly at Bill before turning her attention back to the delivery bag, which was continuing to wriggle most merrily across the table, “…still, it can’t be helped. She would always go rushing into danger, you know, quite devoid of any brain that one. As are most of you, I mean it has to be said, you’re barely more evolved than the contents of this bag. Not to say you don’t taste as wonderfully, though.”

 

               Another devilish wink. God have mercy.

 

               “Sorry but…who are you, really?” Bill asked, quite unable to stop herself.

 

               The woman grinned. “Who do you think I am? Go on, I’m curious to see what your little pea brain comes up with.”

 

               Trying not to take _too_ much offense to the woman’s latest remark – she was possibly The Doctor’s girlfriend after all – Bill peered uncertainly at the baseball cap atop her head.

 

               “A…galactic fast-food delivery driver?”

 

               The woman looked briefly as though she were about to black out before she managed to compose herself once more. “Oh, oh yes, I see, I’ve conquered entire civilisations, blown up at least twenty planets, and once took a wrong turn down a supermarket aisle and ended up in the sixth circle of hell and lived to tell the tale, but ‘Galactic fast-food delivery driver’, she says. You just can’t make it up, really, you can’t get the companions these days, why do I bother, I mean what is the point?”

 

               “You asked!” Bill retorted defensively.

 

               “‘You asked’, she says. Who do you think I am? ‘A galactic fast-food delivery driver’, no – it’s fine, it’s fine. I don’t know why I thought you’d have something intelligent to say. A wee error on my part, let’s not fall out over it. Not when you were just about to make a spot of tea.”

 

               “I never said-” Bill spluttered.

 

               “Thank you, poppet, I’m still very parched after all the burger-flipping,” Missy replied, promptly swinging two feet onto the table, and eyeing Bill in very much the same way a notorious intergalactic serial killer might. Which is, of course, exactly what she was.

 

* * *

 

 

               “You’re meant to be in the vault,” The Doctor stressed adamantly.

 

               “You were meant to be bringing me a daisy chain,” Missy said indignantly, “as a token of our friendship.”

 

               “I never said that – when did – what are you talking about?!”

 

               “A daisy chain,” Missy hissed through grit teeth, getting to her feet with a mug of tea in hand, “to go on my wrist, for me to wear fo’ ‘yay all the livelong day.”

 

               The Doctor glanced nervously at the potential weapon in the Time Lady’s hand. “Put down the tea, Missy.”

 

               “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d like me to see me die of thirst before you’d offer me friendship bracelet. How cold, Doctor, how _very cold-”_

 

               “Sorry – what exactly are you both going on about?” Bill mercifully interrupted, gesturing in Missy’s direction, “Like…I don’t even know who this is, Doctor.”

 

               “A very dear friend-” Missy began.

 

               “It’s complicated,” The Doctor finished, rather hurriedly, gawkily moving forwards to grab the mug of tea out of Missy’s grasp.

 

               Unfortunately, Missy had been looking forward to this particular mug of tea with a level of emotion that rarely featured in her life (excluding incinerating entire planets, which could delight and entertain her for days at a time). It was for this reason that The Doctor found himself engaged in a rather unfortunate predicament, which involved two aspects:

 

               **An Unstoppable Object:** The Doctor, meeting with;

 

**An Immovable Force:** The Mug of Tea, clutched tightly in Missy’s grasp.

 

               The two Timelord’s tugged at and struggled over the mug for a few seconds, glaring furiously at one another.

 

_“Give me the mug of tea, Missy,”_ The Doctor demanded.

 

               _“Say something nice,”_ Missy ordered.

 

               “You’re spilling the tea everywhere,” Bill noted.

 

               “I haven’t got time for your little power games,” The Doctor continued, patience wearing well and truly thin, “give me the mug of tea and I’ll take you back to the vault.”

 

               “Not before you give me a pretty little daisy chain like you promised,” Missy retorted.

 

               “I promised no such thing.”

 

               “I’ve made you one.”

 

               “You’ve – what-”

 

               “Oh yes, a tip of the hat to you, sir.”

 

               Awkward silence. A mug in the grip of two of the most powerful beings in the universe. Bill Potts, sat at the table, mouth ajar in disbelief at the embarrassing display unfolding before her.

 

               The Doctor seemed uncharacteristically at a loss. “A…a tip of the hat…to me?”

 

               “To you, good sir,” Missy confirmed, with a nod and a wink.

 

               “What…what are you-”

 

               “A tip of the… _cap,”_ Missy corrected helpfully, with another wink so theatrical it caused her entire body to dip slightly, “you could say.”

 

               Bill and The Doctor exchanged glances.

 

               Bill slowly pointed at the baseball cap atop Missy’s head.

 

               The Doctor shook his head. _Surely not._

 

               Bill jabbed at the air again. _Take a look, grandpa._

 

               Missy was waiting, all winks and flirtatious smiles and clicks of the tongue. The Doctor hesitantly let go of the mug and raised both hands to slowly lift the baseball cap off Missy’s head.

 

               There, sat atop the Time Lady’s head all this time, was a solitary handcuff.

 

               “That’s...not a friendship bracelet,” The Doctor stated awkwardly.

 

               “Then why is it on my head, Doctor?” Missy replied, as if she were making perfect sense, as if everything she did made perfect sense, as if it made sense that she should be here, now, instead of the vault, having flipped five thousand burgers and delivered a bag of glowing worms to Bill Potts, all the while keeping a handcuff nestled in her hair to present to The Doctor as…an olive branch? A token of friendship, she’d said?

 

               “I’m not going to put that on my wrist,” The Doctor explained, as delicately as he could.

 

               “Are we not friends?” Missy asked, eyes all of a sudden wide and pleading.

 

               “I’m…” The Doctor faltered, eyeing the handcuff warily, “…no…not yet. Maybe not ever.”

 

               Silence descended once more. Missy, in an extremely surprising turn of events, looked as though she were making a brief acquaintance with Her FeelingsTM, which seemed a rather foreign and harrowing experience judging from the expression on her face. The Doctor took the opportunity to awkwardly remove the handcuff from her hair while she was…‘rebooting’, twirling it in his hands for a few moments as he watched her.

 

               “Are you alright?” Bill asked from her seat at the table. She hadn’t known Missy very long but it wasn’t hard to tell the Time Lady was battling with some kind of deep, intense emotions or maybe like a severe brain malfunction or something. Maybe the two were the same thing for her.

 

               “You know,” Missy began, softly this time, with none of her usual spark or theatrics, “just once I’d like to deliver a bag of radioactive worms to someone without it all being about a bushy eyebrowed otter.”

 

* * *

 

 

               Missy was on the TARDIS.

 

               Correction: Missy was in the arse-end of the TARDIS, blowtorch in hand as she welded some kind of strange looking wiring together.

 

               Bill Potts was watching from a distance, terrified and amazed and worried and slightly in love all at once.

 

               “We’ll just see how it goes, you know,” The Doctor was saying beside her, all hand gestures and nervous smiles, “see how she gets on. She’s been very lonely, I think.”

 

               “Been very murdery, you mean,” Nardole commented, “this is a big mistake, Doctor, and I have to protest most passionately-”

 

               “Nardole, Nardole,” The Doctor interrupted, waving his hands exasperatedly, “we’ve been through this. It’s happening. Get used to it.”

 

               “Still,” Bill said, not quite able to take her eyes off the Time Lady (who was now wielding the blow torch with one hand as the other dunked a biscuit in a nearby cup of tea), “we should probably be careful, right? If what you’ve said about her is true, I mean.”

 

               “Oh, it’s true alright,” Nardole said, “The Belgian’s are still very upset. Did you hear about Belgium? She de-materialised and re-materialised the entire-”

 

               _“Nardole,”_ The Doctor interjected again, giving his companion a hard stare, “go and make yourself useful.”

 

               “I am!”

 

_“Somewhere else.”_

 

               With a huff, Nardole shuffled off, still muttering and grumbling to himself about Belgium and giant metallic eyeballs in the sky.

 

               “Bill,” The Doctor said, placing a hand very gently her arm, “as irritating as he is, Nardole does have a point. Missy can be very…enchanting, but she’s not be trusted. Not completely. This is a test run, you understand? We’ll see how she does.”

 

               “Yeah, sure thing,” Bill nodded, giving The Doctor a grin, “you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll steer well clear just like you said.”

 

               Unfortunately for everyone involved, including a particularly petulant Warp Pig, it would soon transpire that Bill had about as much ability to steer clear of Missy as Clara did.

 

               That meaning: None At All.


End file.
